


Blessed Union

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2019 [19]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Angst, Bestiality, Blasphemy, Coercion, Dark Derek Hale, Extremely Dubious Consent, Guilt, I'm going to hell y'all, Loneliness, M/M, Priest Derek Hale, Sacrilegion, Weddings, Zoophilia, formal wear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:30:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Kinktober 2019: Day 19 - Formal WearCuriousCat Anon Prompt: Stiles in white lingerie and after a 'wedding' to his doggy boyfriend..... maybe with Derek watching them consumate the marriage





	Blessed Union

**Author's Note:**

> HI HELLO YES THIS IS SUPER BLASPHEMOUS OKAY.
> 
> I have a super complicated relationship with the church that mostly means I hate it, but hot priests are hot so *shrug*

Stiles had been terrified to go to confession when the new priest had arrived. He’d always been a good boy, had always followed God’s word, but he’d slipped, in the worst way possible. The things he’d let Roscoe do...no, that wasn’t right, he needed to take responsibility if he wanted forgiveness. The things he’d done with Roscoe went against all of the teachings. Things had been hard at home and school since his mother passed and his father began drinking, but that was no excuse for him to fly in the face of all he’d been taught about right and wrong. He’d stopped attending church after she died, his mother and he were the Catholics and his father had no interest in taking him. But now he had his permit and special permission to drive alone, a perk of having the sheriff as a father, so he took himself to confession.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three years since my last confession.”

“Tell me of your sins my child. And of what kept you from God’s house for so long.” Stiles had to swallow at the soft timbre of the priest’s voice - the man didn’t sound nearly as old as their last one, and his thoughts turned sinful as it resonated in the confessional.

“My mother passed and my father is not Catholic. I can drive myself now though, I won’t lapse again.”

“Carry on.”

“Father - I…” Stiles could feel his heart pounding in fear, had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself before he could go on. “I’ve committed carnal sins with Roscoe. Allowed him to lick me and to have sex with me. I know I’ve violated so many of God’s laws, but I want to repent.”

“And how old is this man that he would use you so?”

“He’s not. A man. It’s...Roscoe is my dog.” Stiles’ voice broke on the last word, but he knew the priest heard him by the soft gasp from the other side of the lattice.

“I see. Hmm. I must think and pray on your penance. Come see me tonight, bring Roscoe as well, for you’ve both sinned in the eyes of God.”

“Yes Father.” Stiles knew there were tears slipping down his cheeks as he exited the confessional, but thankfully the chapel was mostly empty. He only glanced back once as he left, when he heard the priest’s door open. The Father was beautiful, dark hair and bright green eyes, a face that God surely sculpted himself, and Stiles again had to turn his thoughts away from the sinful as he exited the chapel.

He was even more nervous that evening when he loaded Roscoe, his German Shepherd, into his jeep. The dog had been a gift - a failure from the police academy, and a companion for Stiles after his mother died. Someone to give him the affection he lost as his father spent all of his free time looking for the bottom of a bottle. It had turned out that Roscoe provided too much affection, something Stiles missed without his mother and his best friend, who had moved away just before she passed. The other kids at school had never taken well to him, and he’d been lonely for the last 3 years, up until he was given Roscoe just over a year ago. All of his free time had been spent with the dog. In the house, in the yard, exploring the preserve.

They’d spent a lot of days and nights just watching TV together, and it was one of those nights, a few months back, that Roscoe had crawled over Stiles, both of them lying on the couch belly to belly, when Stiles had gotten hard. There was a couple on screen having sex, and Stiles was young and healthy. He’d felt himself harden but hadn’t paid much mind to it, not until Roscoe had crawled on top of him - something that happened often, though always much more innocently - and Stiles had turned to tell him to get down when the dog licked his face. Roscoe’s tongue was hot on his skin, and he couldn’t help his hips hitching up as the rough muscle swiped over his lips, his dick finding friction against the dog. When Roscoe kept licking, staying on top of him, Stiles had opened his mouth to the kisses, tongue pushing out to sweep against the dog’s, a mimicry of the kisses happening on screen. After that it had been a lot of fumbling and grinding, freeing his dick and gasping when he felt the hard, tapered length of Roscoe’s already poked free of his sheath. Stiles was careful as he jacked them off together, felt the bulbous knot forming at the base of Roscoe’s dick. He kept squeezing it even as they both shot over his belly, painting him with a mix of their come. 

He had done research after that, finding the safest ways to hunt for information on how this all worked. Roscoe had kept up with his affections, getting frisky at every turn, and Stiles hadn’t turned him away. Had happily shucked his pants and let Roscoe lick his leaking cock, had crawled on the floor to return the favor, trying not to gag when the dog had mounted his face, having to get a hand around Roscoe’s dick to stop him trying to force his knot past Stiles’ teeth. He watched videos and read blogs and presented himself one night, let Roscoe tongue his ass while he fingered himself open before bracing against the floor, moans echoing in the empty house as Roscoe took him like a bitch, fucked his knot in until they were tied together and flooded him with watery dog come. The guilt started to creep in when the knot tugged free and Stiles felt his thighs painted in the wash of come that came out of him. That had been just over two weeks ago, and the guilt had grown every day, with every time he let Roscoe mount him, every time he sucked down Roscoe’s cock or returned the favor and licked the dog’s hole. A week ago he’d seen the notice that the church finally had a new priest to replace the last one, and that had been like a sign to him. God gave him a way to stop what he was doing, to confess to his sins and hope he could earn his forgiveness. He’d pushed Roscoe away all week, feeling a new kind of guilt, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Even now, putting him in the car, his thoughts were carnal and sinful. He could forgo his meeting with the priest, could take Roscoe to the woods, could let them pleasure each other. His cock fattened in his jeans and he ground a hand against it before removing it like it burned. No. He would go and seek his forgiveness, beg the Father for help.

The drive wasn’t too long, the church was just on the edge of the new preserve, and the rectory set just a little further back, surrounded by trees and just out of sight of the church. Stiles noted that the church itself seemed locked up tight and continued down the drive, parking in front of the rectory where soft lights filtered through the windows. He had to steel himself for a moment before grabbing Roscoe’s leash and climbing the steps of the porch to knock on the door. The priest answered in much more sedate clothing, jeans and a black t-shirt with his collar over it. The clothes were almost too small, hugging his body, and Stiles averted his eyes as he introduced himself.

“Ah, the sheriff’s boy. I’ve heard about how things have been for you, since your mother passed. I’m Father Derek Hale.” His hand was warm and dry when Stiles shook it, and he tried not to flinch at the fact that even this new priest had heard of his father’s drinking. It wasn’t a town secret apparently, though at least his dad maintained sobriety when on the job or on call. “Come in, sit down.”

Father Derek gestured to a sofa in the sitting room, the only other piece of furniture a well-worn easy chair, which he sat in as Stiles settled in, having to push Roscoe back when he tried to climb up with him. Father Derek watched it passively, no judgement in his gaze, though Stiles’ face felt like it was on fire, knowing that the man had heard his confession just hours before, knew what Roscoe and he had been doing - even if not in great detail. There was silence for awhile, broken only by the soft murmur of Stiles’ voice as he tried to keep Roscoe calm, quietly apologizing for getting them into this situation, for making things difficult. He knew the dog didn’t understand the sudden distance, that Roscoe loved him as he loved Roscoe, but the bible had been clear, and Stiles knew the priest - Derek - would have the answers he needed on how to fix this in God’s eyes.

“You have a great affection for him, don’t you?” Stiles startled at the sudden break in the quiet.

“Yes, he’s my best friend. He’s the only one who -” Stiles clamped his mouth shut, unwilling to confess to having no one else. But it seemed like Father Derek understood anyhow, head nodding.

“I see. And he loves you back, yes?”

“I think so.”

“Okay. I’ve been praying over the last few hours. God had shown me that your love with Roscoe was pure, but I had to be sure I wasn’t misinterpreting.” Stiles’ heart was thudding again, his confusion obviously bleeding through on his face as the Father scooted forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped, gaze intense. “When a love like yours exists, it’s a sin to destroy it. Sex ouside of marriage is a mortal sin, but forgiveness can be granted, and repentance achieved by marriage.”

Stiles feels his breathing go shallow just a bit, vision a little hazy.

“I don’t think...I think I’m misunderstanding. It sounds like I can be forgiven if I...if I marry Roscoe?” 

“Yes. As one of the hands of God on Earth, I have been granted the ability to bless your union. God holds pure love above all else, and marriage is his sacred gift to you. He wouldn’t want you to live without your love, to have to send Roscoe away to remove the temptation to continue sinning - ” Stiles gasps at the thought of having to get rid of Roscoe, fingers tightening in the dog’s nape where he’d been stroking through his fur, “and in order to assure that you don’t have to do that, you can fulfill the sanctity of marriage, be allowed to continue your relationship without fear of reprisal from God.”

It didn’t sound right, sounded so many shades of wrong, but Stiles looked at Roscoe, looked at the unconditional love in his gaze, and knew he wouldn’t be able to give that up. He could live in sin, turn his back on the church himself this time, walk away. Or he could do as the Father suggested, agree to a marriage to the only living thing that seemed to care about him anymore.

“Okay. Yes, that’s...let’s do that.” 

“Wonderful.” Father Derek’s smile was blinding, transforming his face into something impossibly more beautiful, but Stiles tried to shut that thought down. He was going to be married, he couldn’t have lust for anyone else. “Let me take some measurements, I’ll be able to get you clothes for the wedding, and a ring as well. I’ll have it fashioned as a promise ring so as not to arouse suspicion, I know this is unconventional, but your marriage will be blessed and sanctioned by God.”

Stiles just nodded, let himself be pulled up to his feet, turned and tugged as Father Derek took his measurements. It didn’t seem like all that long before he was having his hand shook again, being ushered outside.

“Please come back in a week and I should have it all ready. And try to keep your interactions with Roscoe chaste until then, God has granted his permission for your love to exist, despite the normal barriers, but that doesn’t mean you should test his patience with you.” Stiles could only nod as he climbed into the jeep, brain still working to figure out what exactly he was doing here. The week seemed to go by in a blur, Stiles wavering between going through with it and never going back to the church again. The thing he kept coming back to was the earnestness in Father Derek’s words, the assurance that his love wasn’t sinful, only the sex outside of marriage was. And he’d missed the closeness with Roscoe, missed cuddling all night and kissing. Of course he missed the sex, but he missed the rest almost as much. By the time the next Friday evening had rolled around, he’d made his decision. His dad was at work all night again, so Stiles didn’t have to explain to anyone where he and Roscoe were going when they left. He’d bathed Roscoe and brushed his fur and then showered himself, put on his nicest clothes even though Father Derek had mentioned something about getting wedding clothes for him, and then turned the jeep toward the preserve and the rectory at the edge of it. Father Derek was standing on the porch by the time Stiles and Roscoe climbed out of the jeep, his sacramental robes on but his feet bare.

“Come on in. I’ve made a bower and altar out back for the ceremony. Your clothes are laid out on the bed in my room, you can use that to get ready.” The priest led the way, opening a door and gesturing Stiles inside. He stopped before he’d taken more than a few steps, seeing the slim white dress and what appeared to be lingerie laid out on top of it, a bottle of lube and a white plug next to them.

“I don’t - what is this?” Stiles’ heart was hammering again and he tried his best to ignore the way his cock was stirring at the sight, even as Father Derek brushed against his back, mouth next to his ear.

“He’s going to be your husband, he deserves to have a beautiful bride. And a marriage isn’t complete until it’s consummated.”

“I just thought we’d go home and...do that..there.” 

“God has given you special permissions, you’ll consummate your marriage in a house of the lord, with one of his conduit’s as his proxy.” Derek hadn’t moved away, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he imagined the brief bit of hardness that brushed against his back. “And once you have, your marriage will receive his blessing. Or do you not want that?”

“No. Yes. I mean, yes, I do. I’m sorry.” 

“Good. Make yourself ready for your wedding night and change, we’ll be waiting out back when you’re ready.” Derek took Roscoe and left, closing the door behind him. Stiles waited until he heard the soft sound of a second door opening and closing before he began to undress with shaking fingers, folding each piece of clothing he stripped out of and setting it aside. His throat felt dry when he opened the lube and poured some over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it before bending over and sliding his hand between his cheeks. He did his best to ignore the throb of his cock as he fingered himself, making sure he was relaxed and plenty wet inside for after, gripping the plug and marvelling at what looked like a real diamond embedded in its base before he wiggled it inside of himself. He’d never worn one before, and though it was smaller overall than Roscoe’s knot, it felt strange to stand and move while being so full. Not a bad strange though.

Wrangling his cock into the lace panties was a little harder, especially when Stiles realized they were nearly assless, only thin strips of material framing his cheeks. The strange, flattened matching bralette went on next, and he almost wished he had a mirror to see how he looked, slim body sitting snug inside of white lace, his cock dampening the front of the underwear. He shook his head and grabbed the dress, marveling at the slide of the silken material over his skin. It fit him perfectly, though he shouldn’t be surprised since Father Derek had taken his measurements a week ago. He wondered where he’d gone shopping for it, knew that it wouldn’t be missed in town if the priest had bought his clothing here. It didn’t matter though. There were no shoes to match, and Stiles was quietly grateful, bare feet were preferable to whatever the priest might have picked to match the dress - anything other than flats would’ve ended in disaster. He left the room feeling weirdly confident despite the unfamiliar clothing, feeling the way it shifted and clung to his body, and moved to the backdoor. He needed another deep breath before he opened it, marvelling at the soft flickering lights that formed a path to a simple bower, under which Father Derek and Roscoe awaited him. Roscoe was up on a dais that would put him near to face-height with Stiles, and he turned his head as Stiles descended the back porch, tail softly wagging. Derek began to speak as soon as Stiles took his place across from Roscoe, and Stiles was sure he imagined the appreciative gaze of the man.

“We are gathered here this night with the permission of God to unite two of his children in holy matrimony. Their love is a beacon shining so bright that God has seen fit to grant their union his permission and his blessing.” Derek’s words were soft, voice warm and soothing, as he recited from passages on the joy and responsibility of marriage, as he told them how God was the creator of all of the love in the world and it’s guardian. When it came to the vows, Derek read them off, allowing Stiles to repeat his, and then stood as proxy for Roscoe, echoing his commitment to the marriage. He slipped a simple silver band onto Stiles’ finger, passing Stiles an identical one to attach to Roscoe’s collar.

“With all of the power vested in me by God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.” Derek’s gaze was given to Roscoe, but Stiles was the one who leaned forward, stifling a groan at the way it made the plug shift inside of him and opening his mouth against the dog’s, licking his way in. Roscoe didn’t need any encouragement to take up the kiss, body shifting in excitement at finally being allowed again, licking into Stiles’ mouth with abandon.

“Alright, let’s move this inside shall we. You still need to consummate your vows.” Derek’s voice sounded rougher but Stiles couldn’t focus on it, just released Roscoe’s fur where he’d grabbed handfuls of it and moved back toward the rectory, Roscoe jumping off the dais.and brushing against his legs as they went. Stiles stopped just inside the door, waiting for Derek to direct him. “My bed would probably be preferable to the living room floor.”

Stiles nodded and moved toward the room, heart picking up in excitement and nerves both as he crossed the threshold and looked at the bed. Roscoe was practically dancing around his feet now, tail wagging so hard it looked like it could fly off, as Derek followed them in, closing the door behind him and then moving to a chair Stiles hadn’t noticed before while gesturing at the bed. Stiles swallowed hard, realizing the chair would afford him a very good view of exactly what was happening, but he didn’t want Derek to call it all off, to rescind God’s forgiveness. His hands shook a little as he unzipped the dress, let it puddle at his feet as he stepped free of it.

“You make a beautiful bride Stiles. Your husband is lucky.” There was no mistaking the roughness in Father Derek’s tone now, and Stiles looked over his shoulder, feeling himself blush at how thoroughly Derek was inspecting his body, his bare ass framed by scraps of lace.

“Thank you.” His own voice was soft, barely audible, and he turned back to face the bed, crawling onto it and hearing the slight gasp Father Derek made as his cheeks spread enough to reveal the plug.

“A diamond for your finger would’ve aroused suspicion, but every bride deserves one.” Stiles swallowed and nodded, not trusting himself to answer.

“Up Roscoe.” That was all the permission he needed, and Stiles barely had time to drop his shoulders and spread his cheeks before Roscoe’s muzzle was pressing against him, hot tongue laving it’s way up his cleft. It took some maneuvering to shift the plug out, Stiles setting it carefully to the side as Roscoe’s tongue lapped at his hole, making him shiver in need. It had been too long for that to last though, and Stiles did his best to brace his shoulders against the bed when Roscoe hopped onto his back mounting him. They’d done this enough that there were only a few misses before that tapered cock was hitting at his hole, slamming in hard on the first thrust, making Stiles cry out. He let go of his cheeks once Roscoe started thrusting, one hand reaching into his panties to play with his cock, the other curling in the bedding. Stiles was already close as Roscoe’s knot began to swell, happening so much faster than normal, both of them having been denied for too long, and he sped up his strokes as the knot popped in and out of his hole audibly. “Close close, please baby, so close.” There were only a few more thrusts and then the knot was shoving in, the tug hard as his body refused to release, and then Roscoe was grinding his hips, cock spurting off inside of Stiles, the pressure right where he needed it inside to set him off too. He could feel his ass rippling around the dog’s cock, feel himself milking it for all it was worth, and he forgot for a moment where he was, that they weren’t alone in his room. But suddenly Father Derek was there, hand skimming down Stiles’ back before his fingers rested right against Stiles’ hole where he and Roscoe were joined.

“Seeing your love made flesh is a beautiful sight, Stiles. I can see why God has allowed it his permission. You and your husband are a wonder in motion together. It’s a shame you cannot bear his children, you’d be even more beautiful pregnant. As it is, the swell he grants you seems to suit you.” Father Derek’s free hand had come up under Stiles, caressing the slight bulge of his belly, the back of his hand brushing Stiles’ softening cock, making it twitch in interest. “How fitting that Roscoe has tied himself to you with a knot, a perfect symbol of God’s blessed union. When it releases, I’ll be able to grant you God’s blessing, if you still want it.” 

Stiles couldn’t speak yet, throat dry and scratchy feeling, but he nodded his head, rested it on his forearms while he waited. Usually Roscoe’s knot didn’t last too long, less than ten minutes, and though they’d been without for two weeks, it seemed like that was going to hold true this time as well. It was only a few before Roscoe turned himself, leaving them ass to ass, and Stiles couldn’t help the way his body clenched down, trying to milk out more come, unwilling to be empty. Father Derek’s fingers were still on his hole, feeling their joining, and Stiles heard the soft laugh he let out when he felt Stiles’ rim try to constrict further. It wasn’t much longer before Roscoe began tugging in earnest, his knot rapidly shrinking and come starting to slip out around the edges. Derek’s fingers didn’t move until Roscoe managed to pull out completely, and then they didn’t move away, instead slipping inside.

“I’m God’s vessel on Earth, a representation of him made flesh. And now I shall bless your union, fill you with the seed of God, let it mix with your husband’s to remind you and him that you belong to one another but to God also, that you are his expressions of love down here in the mortal world.” Stiles was too shocked to speak or protest, his brain addled by the guilt and shame and hope and relief of the last few weeks and tonight. Father Derek’s fingers stayed inside of him as he climbed onto the bed behind Stiles. He turned as much as he could to look over his shoulder, saw the priest tugging his robe up, revealing his nakedness beneath it. There was a strange expression on his face, something akin to rapture, twined through with lust, and Stiles cried out when Father Derek lined himself up, his thick cock thrusting in alongside his fingers before he removed them to grip Stiles’ hip. It was more forceful but also more purposeful than when Roscoe fucked him, Derek’s thrusts hard but measured, lighting him up inside.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Stiles was practically writhing on the priest’s cock, his own fattening back up in his hand where he had yet to drop it.

“Feel God’s love move through me and into you, my child. Feel his blessing.” Each word was punctuated by a hard thrust, and Stiles was helpless beneath him, body rocking back into it. He could feel the gush of Roscoe’s come escaping out around the priest’s cock, feel how slick and smooth it made the slide of it, wondered how it felt for Father Derek but couldn’t wet his throat enough to ask. Instead he started jacking himself in time to the man’s thrusts, speeding up when the priest did, his mouth spilling a litany of praise as Derek kept up the fire of his own words, telling Stiles that God was watching and blessing their union. Stiles came on a scream vision whiting out and ass clenching down hard on Father Derek and forcing the man to follow him over the edge. It was a long while before Stiles could blink away the spots dancing in his vision, Father Derek was slumped against his back, breathing wetly against his skin. He took a deep breath and then peeled himself off, carefully sliding free of Stiles’ used hole.

“God has blessed you and your union, your marriage is valid.” Derek’s voice was soft, and Stiles kept his soft as well when he spoke.

“What was that? With...with you and I? Isn’t adultery a sin?” Because Derek had just married Stiles and Roscoe, and that was to avoid one mortal sin already, not to invite another.

“You’re...special. To God. Your union can never be given the light of day, but God wanted to use me to show his acceptance. He knows you can only achieve so much affection and reciprocation of love from Roscoe, though your husband does love you to the ends of his being, and God wants to make sure you have someone who you can turn to when it is not enough, when you need more than what your husband can understand to offer you. Someone who can cherish and soothe you when you need it.” Father Derek’s hands had been petting down his sides and cheeks as he spoke and now they pried his cheeks apart gently. Stiles had only a moment to feel warm breath ghost over his hole before Father Derek was dipping his tongue inside, swirling it around, sucking softly at the come leaking from it. “God wants me to make sure you are loved as you should be, you and Roscoe both.” And something about it feels wrong, feels off, but Father Derek’s mouth on him feels good, and Stiles feels loved and cherished for the first time in years, especially when Roscoe hops back onto the bed, nuzzling and lapping at his face. And Stiles needs it too much to question any of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come prompt me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/dirtyknots).  
All of my additional contact information can be found on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile)!


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